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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078430">Retrograde</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxRobinxx/pseuds/xxRobinxx'>xxRobinxx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amnesia, Angst, But also, Detective Reader Strikes Again, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gellert is the impostor, Graphic Injury, Grindelwald would’ve gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling readers, Hurt/Comfort, I saw him vent, I think that’s it but I’ll add as I go, Injury, Jewish! Goldstein sisters, Kidnapping, M/M, MACUSA being useless tw, Memory Loss, Now the fun stuff:, Okay boys let’s start with the trigger warnings:, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Original Percival Graves is also a sarcastic asshole, Period Typical Homophobia, Reader is kinda badass, Reader notices his boo ain’t right, Scars, Trauma, Traumatic accident, a n g s t, a touch of, and he has amnesia, and just to be safe, author sucks at summaries, but just to be safe because Gellert is sus, but not really, dub con, hospital mention, injury description, secret gay love affair, the Goldstein sisters are the real MVPs here, trans men welcome come get y’all juice, what’s your excuse, x Reader, x male reader, 🤣</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:40:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxRobinxx/pseuds/xxRobinxx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically there are hardly any Percival Graves fics, and even fewer with a Male reader, so here you go my pretties.</p><p>(Y/N) = Your name (but we all knew that cmon now)<br/>(L/N) = Last name</p><p>(Y/N) (L/N) has just come back to MACUSA after suffering a serious accident that left him scarred, injured and with gaps in his memory. Everything seems as it should, but there’s a suspicion in the back of (Y/N)’s mind that he can’t seem to shake, especially concerning the Director of Magical Security, Percival Graves. As the mystery begins to unravel and (Y/N) finds himself directly in the path of one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time, he must decide whether his emerging past relationship with the real Percival Graves is worth risking his life for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Percival Graves/Male Reader, Original Percival Graves/Original Male Character(s), Original Percival Graves/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Retrograde</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing that (Y/N) saw after stepping through MACUSA's grand front doors was a hurricane of golden curls and pink flying at him with a shrill cry. He barely had time to open his arms before Queenie Goldstein barrelled into him with such force that he almost stumbled back out into the street again. The scent of her perfume smacked him in the face just as hard the moment after - sweet and floral like candied violet.</p><p>"Oh honey! I'm so gladtoseeyou, Merlin, I was so worried when I heard-!"</p><p>(Y/N) made a choking sound, but the arms wrapped tightly around his neck made it hard to reply to the wall of babble assaulting his ears.</p><p>"Mercy Lewis, Queenie, give the man a little room to breathe," a quiet voice tinged with exasperation said from over her shoulder. Queenie extracted herself as quickly as she had appeared, stepping back with a hurried click-click-click of heels against the hard floor and a gentle pat to brush her hair back in place. Her cheeks were tinged as pink as her lipstick, but her giddy grin didn't falter one bit. Beside her, Tina Goldstein's dimpled smile was nowhere near as bright, but her dark eyes were practically glowing.</p><p>"Hey you two," (Y/N) laughed, not bothering to fix his shirt until Tina had stepped forwards and given him a less aggressive, but just as warm, embrace, "I've missed seeing your faces like you wouldn't believe."</p><p>"Oh, we've missed you too!" Queenie said, and made an abortive movement that made (Y/N) realise that he was in very real danger of getting tackled again today, and would likely be for the coming few weeks. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the blonde gave him a one-shouldered shrug that said, 'oh well, you'll live'.</p><p>A memo flew low over his head, drawing his gaze up to the towering ceiling above. It had been months since (Y/N) had stepped foot in the Woolworth building, and now he was wondering how he had ever gotten used to the grandeur. It was bright yet sleek, glamorous yet elegant, practical yet complex. As always, it reminded him of President Picquery, whose stern visage hung between the tall black columns and watched the comparatively small employees pass underneath.</p><p>"You'll get used to it again," Tina assured him upon seeing the look on his face.</p><p>"I suppose I'll have to," (Y/N) sighed. His head began to spin, so he quickly looked back down and gave the Goldstein sisters a cursory smile. The unspoken question hung between the three of them so heavily that it was almost visible. In a way it was, in the way that Queenie worried at her lip with her teeth and Tina kept her hands perfectly still by her side to avoid wringing them. He could tell that Tina was working up the courage when a tall, pale man with floppy brown hair and a plain face strode his way into view. (Y/N) quietly sighed and schooled his expression into something inoffensive.</p><p>"Abernathy"</p><p>"(Y/N)," Abernathy greeted with a thin smile, which he then turned towards the Goldstein sisters, "I appreciate it's been a while, but I gotta get on with induction, ladies."</p><p>Tina pursed her lips at his condescending tone, but bobbed her head once to show her understanding, sleek brown hair bouncing with the movement. Queenie barely glanced in Abernathy's direction as she called over him;</p><p>"We're having stew tonight, honey, we'd love it if you could come."</p><p>Ignoring the impatient cough sent his way, (Y/N) smiled warmly at Queenie and said;</p><p>"Sure thing, we can talk properly then."</p><p>Queenie wrinkled her nose at Abernathy in a way that could easily be misconstrued as fond, and by the way that the tips of his ears turned a fetching shade of scarlet it seemed he felt it was. Tina didn't bother - there was and never had been any love lost - and simply gave (Y/N) a little wave as she started walking down the long corridor that led to the wand permit office. That was one thing which he hadn't missed; he could tell that every time she had to drag herself down that hall, the opposite end of the building to where the Aurors resided, that it killed her a little inside by the way that her doe eyes dulled.</p><p>"Okay then, shall we?" Abernathy exclaimed with the plastered-on enthusiasm of someone who wants to get a job over with. (Y/N) nodded and followed his quick strides as they made their way to the security department. On their way up a long, curved flight of stairs they passed a group of people who (Y/N) vaguely recognised - colleagues and friendly acquaintances, nothing more - and all of them quickly glanced elsewhere. One man in particular shot his gaze up to the heights of the ceiling to avoid his gaze, and then almost crashed into the Auror in front of him when she stopped for a moment to rearrange the files under her arm. The back of (Y/N)'s neck prickled hotly.</p><p>"People talk all the time, but they don't know what to say, I think." Abernathy coughed, then cast a faltering sidelong smile at him. (Y/N) shrugged and muttered something akin to, 'It's fine', but his stomach was starting to twist more with each step closer that he took to the security department. Of course he'd expected people to talk, but the idea of opening the door to the office and having a room full of eyes on him made him shudder.</p><p>He almost wanted to ask what people had been saying.</p><p>Almost.</p><p>He got the feeling that he was about to be told anyway.</p><p>"I heard a rumour," Abernathy started with a shifty look, "that you're having some...memory troubles?"</p><p>(Y/N) bit his tongue, hard, to keep down the heavy sigh that rose up in his chest.</p><p>"Yeah," he replied shortly.</p><p>"Oh." Abernathy glanced down at his sleeve and brushed it off with the back of his hand. "Sorry to hear that."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>They reached the top of the stairs and carried on along the second floor. A wisened house elf with a mop harrumphed loudly within ear shot and muttered something under his breath about puddles and wiping feet. As they passed beneath yet another banner bearing President Picquery's face, Abernathy continued;</p><p>"I mean the whole business with the accident, really too bad."</p><p>(Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath and stiffened. The bright white of hospital lights flashed in front of his eyes before he rapidly blinked them away. Out of habit, he glanced down at his wrist. The puckered silvery-pink mark of a deep scar peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his jacket, winking for a moment in the light before he quickly turned it over and hid it from view.</p><p>"Thanks," he repeated.</p><p> </p><p>Despite his fears, the door that led to the Department of Magical Security - as it exclaimed in delicate golden letters across a pane of frosted glass - came as a welcome relief. (Y/N) threw the door open almost too hastily and caught it just before it slammed into the wall. A few people glanced up and stared, but most simple kept on walking with their noses buried in files or caught up in intense discussion with the person striding along beside them. (Y/N) caught the eye of Frances Richards, a small, plump young woman only a year out of Auror training, and the brightening of her cheeks and lopsided smile was all he needed to feel the tension bleed out of his shoulders. Across from her, a thin man with brown skin and dark, thick hair gave him a distracted wave and a thumbs-up before going back to desperately trying to wrangle an enchanted memo that wouldn't stop flying into the window.</p><p>The office still smelled of ink, coffee and polish.</p><p>MACUSA was still MACUSA.</p><p>"Feeling all fine?" Abernathy asked as if talking to a frightened child. (Y/N) turned his head and gave him a level look.</p><p>"Better than I have in a while," he replied honestly. Abernathy blinked, shifted his posture and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Well good, because Director Graves wants to talk to you before you start again."</p><p>(Y/N) was glad that Queenie wasn't around to hear his thoughts.</p><p>"Oh?" He croaked before quickly clearing his throat and repeating; "Oh? Why? I've done the rehabilitation."</p><p>Abernathy scoffed and ran his hand over his gelled hair.</p><p>"Like I'd know, buddy. You and he always seemed to get on, I don't know."</p><p>"We did?" (Y/N) blurted out, before quickly shutting his mouth - too late. Abernathy's expression shifted through a myriad of emotions before quickly settling on realisation, and then poorly concealed embarrassment. No, worse than embarrassment.</p><p>Pity.</p><p>"Right. Fine. I remember where his office is," he said hastily and started making his way through the crowd, ducking his head to hide the flush burning its way into his cheeks. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but even as he shifted and weaved to avoid colliding shoulders with the many bustling bodies moving about the department he thought he felt a stare boring into his back right up until the moment that he turned the corner out of the main typing pool and into the long corridor beyond.</p><p>The hallway stretched on, high and arched and paved in black marble. The portraits of former directors watched (Y/N) pass with varying degrees of coldness - not one of them could be called warm, and Percival Graves was no different.</p><p>At least, what he could remember of Percival Graves.</p><p>
  <em>Percival Graves.</em>
</p><p>Something about that name set something twisting inside his chest, and he couldn't decide what it was, or even whether or not it was pleasant. He remembered feeling it to a lesser degree when one of the nurses taking his vitals in the hospital had casually mentioned that Mister Graves had inquired about his welfare. Now, as he came to stand before the heavy oak door with a golden plaque that read 'Director of Magical Security', he thought that his heart and stomach might be trying to tie themselves into knots. It was a sickening sensation, and for a moment he had to pause, hand hovering by his shoulder just barely curled into a fist.</p><p>What was it? Apprehension? 'Fear' didn't seem right. Fear was a cold, seizing feeling like falling into a dark lake in winter. This was...different.</p><p>Slowly, he inhaled through his nose, silenced his thoughts, then jerked his hand forwards and rapped his knuckles against the door before he had a chance to convince himself out of doing it. A thrill jumped down his spine at the heavy sound. Almost immediately a deep voice answered;</p><p>"Come in."</p><p>(Y/N) just barely remembered to breathe out again before he pushed the door open with the flat of his palm and stepped inside. Immediately, he was struck that the office looked odd, but it wasn't a thought that he paid much mind to. Since the accident a pervasive sense of wrongness had followed him in a thick fog. Stepping back into his own home for the first time had felt like walking into a stranger's without their permission. A few weeks had passed now, and it was better, but more akin to the feeling of coming back to something and being certain that it wasn't the way that you had left it.</p><p>There was no reason for the office to be odd. It still spoke of Graves - or what he could remember of Graves. Neat, ordered, but with just enough mess in the corners that you could never fall under the impression that this was a man with time on his hands. It was imposing, too, in a way which couldn't quite be named. There was nothing much of sentimental value on display aside from a few framed newspaper clippings. (Y/N) looked at them and couldn't help but feel a tugging sensation that he knew their significance. Before he got the chance to chase after that pull, however, Graves looked up from his desk and fixed him with an inscrutable look.</p><p>"Please take a seat," he said, gesturing at the two vacant chairs positioned opposite. (Y/N) did as he was told hastily and adjusted his tie. Graves let go of his black quill, which continued writing without him, and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. That simple gesture coupled with his piercing dark eyes had (Y/N) biting back an apology for something he hadn't even been accused of yet.</p><p>That, at least, seemed right.</p><p>"How did the rehabilitation go?" Graves asked flatly.</p><p>That simple question, the way it was asked, jarred (Y/N) like a punch to the teeth. He heard himself answer something like 'it went well' while under the desk his pushed his fingernails into his palm until they bit the flesh.</p><p>'<em>Get a hold of yourself.</em>'</p><p>"Good." Graves sat back with a sigh and ran a hand over his slicked back salt-and-pepper hair. (Y/N) blinked and quickly glanced out of the window as the needle-point pain in his hands brought him slowly back into the room. It was enchanted to show the New York City skyline, not so different to what actually lay outside, only it was sunny and golden no matter the weather outside and had a substantially better view of the Hudson River.</p><p>"As you probably know," Graves continued slowly, drawing (Y/N)'s attention, "the healer's report said that you still suffer with gaps in your memory."</p><p>Despite the subject, the slight Irish lilt to Graves's voice on the word 'suffer' had some of the tension easing out of (Y/N)'s hands - enough that he finally uncurled his fists and ignored the ache in his fingertips.</p><p>"Yes, but I still passed the tests no problem. It only seems to concern my...personal life. It won't affect my work, sir."</p><p>Graves's lips quirked upwards momentarily, but the sharp expression in his eyes didn't ease. (Y/N) felt a prickling along his right forearm, and out of habit he reached across his body and rubbed his thumb up and down the skin of his wrist. Graves glanced down at the movement.</p><p>"Does it still hurt?" he asked, and his voice seemed a little softer.</p><p>"No, sir," (Y/N) answered a little too quickly. When Graves looked back up and slightly raised an eyebrow, he sighed and clarified;</p><p>"It doesn't hurt, no. It's...stiff."</p><p>Graves hummed, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. After a moment, he cocked his head and extended his open hand out across the desk.</p><p>"May I?"</p><p>It took a moment for what he was asking to sink in. When it did, (Y/N) didn't trust himself to speak without stammering and so simply shrugged off his jacket as Graves watched intently. He felt his heartbeat pick up and fought the urge to cover his chest as if it could be seen from the outside. Slowly, he leaned forward in his chair and offered his arm. Peeking out from underneath the white shirt sleeve and in the bright light streaming through the enchanted window, the scar was clearly visible in contrast to his skin. Graves slowly brought his palm to cradle the back of (Y/N)'s hand and gently wrapped his fingers around his wrist. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from startling when the warm skin touched his own. The skin was hardened by years of practicing magic, but smooth in all places except for his fingertips, which were slightly rough as they just barely brushed the exposed scar tissue. The ring on his finger, which bore the Graves family crest, was cold when it nudged the underside of his wrist.</p><p>"Is this all of it?"</p><p>(Y/N) looked up at Graves's face and swallowed. His face was set in rapt concentration, furrowed brow casting a shadow over his eyes, and he hadn't noticed that a strand of hair had fallen astray and was now curled against his forehead. At that moment he felt a touch against his pulse point that sent shivers shooting up his arm.</p><p>"No," (Y/N) said quietly, "it's..."</p><p>Instead of finishing his sentence, he instead scooted the chair forward with three quiet thuds and straightened his arm out further. Graves hummed again, though this time in a more questioning manner, and deftly undid the button on the cuff of (Y/N)'s sleeve with a movement as effortless as shrugging. (Y/N)'s breath stuttered in his throat. When he realised that he was starting to admire how Graves's broad shoulders filled out his white shirt, he quickly and pointedly averted his stare back to the Hudson.</p><p>'<em>He's your boss,</em>' he reminded himself forcefully.</p><p>At that moment, Graves slid his hand down the length of (Y/N)'s forearm and pushed back the fabric of his shirt sleeve. His knees became numb, and he was suddenly very glad that he had taken the invitation to sit down so quickly. The skin rose up in goosebumps in the wake of the barely-there touch as it followed the jagged line of the scar further and further down his arm as it widened and deepened before it eventually stopped in a puckered, lopsided cross at his elbow.</p><p>"One of the nurses said that it looked like a river," (Y/N) said, because he didn't know what else to say, but he felt that he had to say something because the air in the room was suddenly far too thick to breathe. Graves remained still for a moment - holding his elbow still with one hand while the other came back to rest once again at his wrist.</p><p>"Was it painful?"</p><p>"I don't remember. There are more scars, but I don't remember them either," (Y/N) replied honestly. Graves looked up at him, and for a moment before his expression settled back into something harder to read, he almost seemed annoyed with the answer. He suddenly released him and sat back in his chair as if nothing had happened, while (Y/N) felt as if he were spinning.</p><p>"I don't suppose you remember the circumstances of the accident either," Graves stated, more for his own benefit, but (Y/N) felt compelled to answer nonetheless.</p><p>"No, sir. Or anything leading up to it. Apparently it's a common response to-"</p><p>"-Trauma, yes, I'm aware." Any softness that Graves had shown was entirely gone now. His voice had taken on that same flat quality that he'd greeted (Y/N) with. With his elbow propped on the arm of his chair and his knuckles resting by his jaw, it didn't feel much of a stretch to think that he was bored. Again, that jarring sensation crept up the inside of (Y/N)'s stomach.</p><p>The sense of wrongness.</p><p>"It won't affect my work, sir," he repeated.</p><p>"No, good," Graves agreed. His eyes were fixed on something that rested on the shelf. (Y/N) followed his stare and saw something small and black. A case of some kind, like the kind used for reading glasses or cigarettes. The cold prickling started to creep down his legs and up into his ribs. Quietly, he reached across his body once again and rolled his sleeve back down, buttoning it with much more difficulty than it had been undone.</p><p>"You have your wand back?"</p><p>"Yes sir."</p><p>"Good. You understand that if anything should interfere with your work as an auror, you are to report it immediately?"</p><p>"Yes sir."</p><p>"And that there will be consequences if you don't?"</p><p>(Y/N) clenched his jaw.</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>Graves heaved a quiet sigh and looked over to give (Y/N) a thin half-smile that didn't come anywhere near his eyes.</p><p>"Good. Welcome back, auror (L/N). You're dismissed."</p><p>(Y/N) mirrored the gesture and nodded in thanks, standing as gracefully as he could and left at a carefully measured pace that he silently hoped wouldn't betray the fact that his heart was hammering inside his chest, screaming at him to be down the hall and around the corner right now. When he closed the door behind him, he did so with a full-body shudder that he had been desperately keeping at bay.</p><p>
  <em>'What the hell?'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The day passed in a blur, and quickly the encounter with the Director was largely pushed to the back of his mind. Although (Y/N) had passed the healer's evaluation and been cleared for active duty, there was a certain rhythm to a working day inside of the Department of Magical Security, and it was a rhythm that three months' absence had robbed him of. He found himself stumbling over tasks that he used to complete without so much as a second thought - filling out and sorting paperwork, ducking the hundreds of flying memos that littered the air, moving from one end of the room to the other without being elbowed in the ribs. By the time that lunchtime came his right hand was starting to tremble ever so slightly, and so - just as Graves had done earlier - (Y/N) allowed his quill to write notes, scratching out his looping handwriting as he surreptitiously massaged the length of his forearm with the pad of his thumb underneath his desk.</p><p>It wasn't quite so effortless a feat, however, as it was for the Director. Keeping his concentration focused enough to stop the quill from writing out his every idle thought was harder than he remembered, and a few hours and several hasty erasures later he was starting to feel pressure building behind his eyes and his jaw ached from grinding it in concentration.</p><p>Reaching over, he removed the quill from the page and laid it carefully down on the desk. He sat back and rubbed his temples with a long sigh. The sunlight beaming through the tall glass windows was beginning to slowly dim into darkness, a few people were beginning to stow their personal effects back into their bags and pluck their coats off of the backs of their chairs. There were still clusters of Aurors gathered around APB boards, chattering away secretively amongst themselves and sharing knowing glances, but (Y/N) knew that it would be a while yet before he was given an assignment that required any substantial legwork.</p><p>'<em>Perhaps that's just as well,’</em> He thought bitterly as he looked down at the shiver in the tips of his fingers. The trembling hadn't quite subsided yet, and it wouldn't until he went to sleep and woke up tomorrow. He hadn't forgotten Queenie's invitation to dinner, and although the idea of doing anything other than dragging his tired body home and collapsing into his too-soft bed made his heart drop, he reasoned that it would do him some good. If something as simple as the Director - who was his boss - examining his scar was enough to make his collar feel tight, then it stood to reason that he sorely lacked decent company.</p><p>Besides anything else, he had been honest when he told the sisters that he had missed them.</p><p>(Y/N) picked up the quill one more time, jotted down a few more notes of importance, signed off on the document with a flourish that made his palm twinge and stood abruptly. There wasn't much on his desk to pack away anymore - before the accident it had been a noteworthy habit of his to hoard random trinkets and dot them about the edges of his desk until there was hardly any space left, at which point he would have to sweep them all into a bag and keep them elsewhere, and thus the cycle started anew.</p><p>Now, though, the empty space didn't seem barren to him. Merely more practical. There was more room to accommodate the stiff, clumsy movements of his writing and fewer small objects to clean when his elbow inevitably knocked over the ink well.</p><p>(Y/N) looked for a moment longer, worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he cocked his head slightly to the side.</p><p>'<em>But then again, a small clock couldn't hurt.</em>'</p><p>He pulled his jacket back on with a little difficulty, tucked the finished stack of paperwork under his arm and made his way towards the door of the office along with a steady stream of others. The main hall was filled with the buzz of tired chatter, groups of men and women from different departments meeting in the entrance hall on their way out and stopping for a quick chat. Most had the same expression; shadows under their eyes and less exuberant than they had been in the morning, but with tired smiles on their faces. Suits and skirts which had been perfectly ironed were now rumpled and a little askew, and hats were affixed just a little more securely to hide hair messed up by stressed fiddling.</p><p>(Y/N) spotted Queenie talking rapidly to a stout man in his middle age, who paid singular attention to her every word. She had once complained to him that although yes, most men seemed to give her their undivided attention, she knew full well that they very rarely listened to a single word that she said. That's how she said that she knew he was - as she had put it - 'playin' for the home team'. Though legilimency could at times be extremely useful, (Y/N) thought of the times when men twice Queenie's age might have pictured her in her underwear while conversing with her and decided that it was a skill he wasn't exactly itching to learn.</p><p>She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and waved him over just as Tina appeared, looking far less pleased with the world in general than her younger sister. The stout man tipped his hat to Queenie and excused himself, and (Y/N) tried not to assume that it was because of him that he left so abruptly, but the fact that for the entire day most of the Security department had done their level best to avoid making eye contact with him was damning evidence to the contrary.</p><p>"Oh, don't mind them," Queenie frowned and waved her hand dismissively, "they're just bein' silly."</p><p>"Who's being silly?" Tina huffed, yanking her hat onto her head. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p>"Your day was that good, huh?"</p><p>"Oh, don't get me started," Tina said in a lighthearted enough tone, but her expression was positively thunderous. Queenie whipped her head around to look at her with wide eyes. (Y/N) bit back a laugh - he could only imagine what she must've just heard.</p><p>"I think it's about time we fed you," Queenie chided with the same stunned expression. Tina had the grace to send her an apologetic look, but one that was only half sincere. They then both turned their attention to (Y/N), and he was reminded of a pair of cats following a sound.</p><p>"You're still joining us?"</p><p>"Of course," he nodded, "we have a lot to catch up on."</p><p> </p><p>Although the weather had cleared up since the morning and it wasn't that cold, they all elected to apparate to the Goldstein's brownstone apartment on West 24th street as the walk would take over an hour, both women were complaining of their heels giving them sore feet and the healer had strictly told (Y/N) to rest as much as possible for the next two months. Though when he stumbled into the warm kitchen with his mercifully empty stomach violently seizing, he reflected that perhaps apparition wasn't the best alternative to a long, relaxing stroll.</p><p>"You okay there, sugar?" Queenie patted his back. (Y/N) coughed and gripped the back of a chair for support.</p><p>"Yeah, just not so used to it anymore."</p><p>"Well, if you do have to throw up do me a favour-" Tina wobbled slightly as she toed her heels off one at a time and sighed in relief, "-and do it out the window, it'd be funny to see Missus Espinoza's face when she finds sick on her rose bush."</p><p>"Oh, <em>Teenie</em>."</p><p>"Well it would! Honestly if we weren't prohibited from talking to a no-maj I would've given her a piece of my mind by now."</p><p>"What on Earth's gotten into you?"</p><p>And so Tina began regaling them with the story of how somehow a fully officiated wand permit had gotten lost amongst all of the other paperwork and the man who had lost it had made such a fuss that it ended up with the whole office looking for a single four-page document amongst hundreds. When they finally found it, it was right under his desk where he'd left it to go to the toilet, and it must have been knocked off of the side by someone else.</p><p>"But by then he was all bent outta shape so he started saying it must've been me that knocked it over because I'm so clumsy, even though I'm never anywhere near his desk-"</p><p>While she sat at the end of the table and ranted, Queenie was waving her wand in graceful, fluid motions through the air, nodding or shaking her head as appropriate while slightly biting her lower lip in concentration. Sliced vegetables, pieces of chicken, a pot of broth and other ingredients circled around the stove and deposited themselves into a large black pot which had a small fire burning beneath it. (Y/N) stopped listening for a moment and slightly smiled to himself at the sight.</p><p>Sitting at the table in this apartment, listening to one of the sisters ranting about their work while the other made dinner was the closest thing to normal that he had experienced in a long while. He knew that here, at least, he would never feel like a stranger in his own life.</p><p>"-then it was the end of the day and nobody had got any work done. And a good few of them think it's <em>my</em> fault!"</p><p>Tina's marrow shoulders visibly deflated with a long sigh as she tipped her head forward and pinched her brow. Queenie clicked her tongue over the pot, which she was leaning over so intently that the heat from it was flushing her face pink. (Y/N) shook his head slowly.</p><p>"You're wasted in wand permits, Tina."</p><p>Tina looked slightly stunned for a moment, then her face melted into a gentle smile.</p><p>"Thank you," she sighed and tucked her brown hair behind her ear. "It was my own stupid fault, really. I shouldn't have gone for that Second Salem woman. But poor Credence-"</p><p>"I'm sorry?" (Y/N) furrowed his brow at her. "Who's Credence?"</p><p>Tina and Queenie exchanged a brief look.</p><p>"Credence? Credence Barebone?" Tina said. (Y/N) blinked.</p><p>"Credence Barebone," he repeated. The name stirred something in him, just as the name Percival Graves did, but it was heavier; a sinking inside his chest and the urge to check over his shoulder. Almost like he shouldn't be saying it aloud. Eventually, he shook his head again.</p><p>"I remember the Second Salem church. Is Credence one of the kids?"</p><p>"Yeah, the boy." Tina nodded encouragingly. (Y/N) could faintly picture him now; a waif of a young man with short black hair, tall but always hunched over, dressed in clothes far too big for him and even then his prominent bones stuck out of the fabric when he moved. He described this to Tina, who once again enthusiastically nodded and beamed.</p><p>It was a small piece of the puzzle, but it was a start, and (Y/N) felt a swell of pride. Tina opened her mouth and looked as if she were about to ask a question, but she was suddenly blocked from view by a steaming black pot that filled the kitchen with wonderful savoury aromas that made (Y/N)'s mouth water.</p><p>"No more work talk until after dinner." Queenie said firmly, and both (Y/N) and Tina were far too distracted by their growling stomachs to argue.</p><p>They ate in comfortable silence for the most part, though (Y/N) made sure to let Queenie know that her chicken stew was the best thing that he had eaten in months. She giggled and waved her hand, but her smile grew a little wider at each praise, and by the end of the meal when they were all pleasantly full her grin nearly split her face and Tina couldn't stop laughing at how scarlet her sister's cheeks had turned.</p><p>"You're such an awful flatterer!" Queenie exclaimed, hiding her cheeks behind her long, elegant hands.</p><p>"Clearly not that awful at it," (Y/N) retorted with a smile, to which she lightly swatted at him. Tina chuckled as she sent the dishes floating slowly over to the sink.</p><p>"You know, I think you two would've married a long time ago if you'd been interested," she said wryly. Queenie scoffed.</p><p>"Oh <em>please</em>, as if I'd have a chance when he and Graves are so smitten-"</p><p>Tina jolted as she delivered a swift kick underneath the table. Queenie stammered into silence and took on a wounded expression. (Y/N)'s eyes widened.</p><p>"Wait, what?" he said through numb lips. The bright smile returned, and she leaned forwards conspiratorially.</p><p>"I wish you could've seen the way he used to look at you. Honestly, anyone would think you'd hung the stars in the sky. And then you'd get all flustered when you made him laugh. Not that you'd know to look for it, but once you did..."</p><p>(Y/N) thought that his head had been flooded with radio static, so much so that he couldn't quite tell whether his pulse was racing or if it had stopped entirely. Tina sighed and shot her sister a sharp glare.</p><p>"You said you weren't going to tell him," she hissed. Queenie tucked her blonde curls behind her ear and bit her lip with a shrug.</p><p>"Whoopsie."</p><p>"I don't understand," (Y/N) frowned, "you're saying that Graves...<em>likes</em> me?"</p><p><em>'And that I like him?</em>' he silently added.</p><p>The smile on Queenie's face faltered, and then dropped entirely. Tina, noticing this, sat up straighter in her chair and glanced between the two of them. The clock on the wall ticked deafeningly in the silence that settled between the three of them, punctured only by the sound of (Y/N)'s own slightly laboured breathing reaching his own ears.</p><p>"Oh...oh honey," Queenie said quietly, "you don't remember <em>anything</em>?"</p><p>(Y/N)'s eyes dropped to the smooth wooden surface of the table and fixed on a small, circular dent directly under his nose. His thoughts were a whirlwind and he didn't know where it started, much less where it would end. Slowly, he took a shuddering breath and started talking in a careful, steady voice.</p><p>"Ever since the accident, nothing's quite made sense. Not like it used to. I can't remember what happened or even what happened before, just waking up in the hospital with bandages all over me and my whole body felt like I'd fallen off a building and hit everything on the way down. And my head- Mercy Lewis, I thought it was gonna split open. When I first woke up, I couldn't even remember my name."</p><p>He heard Queenie gasp quietly and Tina shift in her seat. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the table, he slowly started running his index finger around the dent in the table.</p><p>"Most of it came back after the first few hours, and then the rest came back after a day or two. There's just these pieces that I just can't...get to."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Tina asked, wringing her hands in her lap.</p><p>"I mean it doesn't feel the same. When I couldn't remember anything at all, it was just a blank. There was nothing there at first, and when it came back it was like...like a light turning on. And when the big things came back on they sort of shone on the little things and everything just fell back into place. But there's just a few moments that feel different. It's not like waiting for a light to turn on, it's like they're behind a locked door. Earlier, when you mentioned Credence, I could only remember what he looked like when I thought about the Second Salem church. When I tried to think of just his name it was like there was a wall around it."</p><p>When he looked up again Tina was chewing on her fingernail with narrowed eyes fixed on a distant point beyond the wall. He recognised the pose - it was one that she had often fallen into when staring at an APB board in the bullpen or flicking through a case file. Eventually, she removed her hand from her mouth and took a long breath.</p><p>"Well...Queenie could look."</p><p>"I can't do anything if he's been obliviated," Queenie reminded her. Tina quickly shook her head.</p><p>"It doesn't sound like he has. People who've been obliviated don't know there's anything missing, and there's no way around it. If someone had decided to obliviate Credence from (Y/N)'s mind, he wouldn't have remembered what he looked like just by looking at it from a different angle."</p><p>Tina was speaking rapidly, becoming more animated with every word until she paused, settled into stillness. Suddenly, her face lit up from within, and she firmly stated;</p><p>"It's a memory charm. It's gotta be."</p><p>(Y/N) turned it over in his mind for a moment before nodding his agreement.</p><p>"That makes sense. I remember reading about them at school, and it fits." For a moment his head felt calmer, but like sand settling in a whirlwind, it didn't last for long. With a sigh, he added;</p><p>"But it doesn't explain everything. Why a memory charm instead of obliviation? Why would someone go to that trouble if they wanted me to forget something? And you said Graves apparently likes me, but he called me into his office this morning and he was...odd."</p><p>"How do you mean, 'odd'?" Queenie asked.</p><p>"You mean cold?" Tina offered.</p><p>"No- well, yes, but...I think it would be easier to show you."</p><p>Queenie nodded her assent and straightened up in her chair, folding her hands over each other neatly in her lap. (Y/N) looked into her blue eyes and pushed the incident to the front of his mind as best he could. There were missing details, of course, but he primarily focused on the flat greeting and the unease that it caused, followed by the almost tender gesture of Graves touching his scar. Then back to cool indifference, bordering on annoyance, after Graves learned that (Y/N) couldn't recall the accident.</p><p>Queenie was gentle, so subtle with her touch that he could barely feel her inside of his mind; the mark of a skilled legilimens. When she eventually blinked and withdrew, however, a rush of lightness surged into his head that had him squeezing his eyes shut until it ebbed away.</p><p>"That is...<em>very</em> odd." Queenie pursed her lips in thought and crossed one of her legs over the other, leaning to one side with a pensive expression that made her look like a colourful sculpture.</p><p>"Well, he hasn't been as chatty as normal. Which isn't to say a lot," Tina admitted, "but since I got demoted he would stop by the wand permit office sometimes. I figured he just got too busy to make social visits."</p><p>"Do you think it could be linked with the memory charm?" (Y/N) asked.</p><p>"Well, there's only one way to find out."</p><p>(Y/N)'s eyes suddenly ached with fatigue. A yawn started to creep up his throat, which he quickly half-stifled by ducking his head. Queenie, however, noticed the futile effort out of the corner of her eye and unfurled from her thoughtful position.</p><p>"Not tonight - I think we all could use some rest."</p><p>Although Tina cocked her head and opened her mouth to protest, Queenie shot her a pointed look that cut her off before she spoke a word. Tina's dark eyes cast across the table at (Y/N), who was failing miserably to hide yet another yawn behind the back of his hand.</p><p>"You're probably right," she agreed reluctantly, "we have no idea what we're even looking for."</p><p>He stiffened and glanced down at the sliver of scar tissue shining under the warm glow of the kitchen light. The scar that he couldn't remember receiving - not only that, but the memory of it had been removed.</p><p>Removed, probably, for a reason.  </p><p>'<em>No</em>,' he thought, '<em>no, we don't know what we're looking for.</em>'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you think! It’s the first thing I’ve written in a while - mental health issues got in the way, so I didn’t write a thing for over a year, so I’m aware that I’m probably a little rusty. Feedback is always appreciated! Xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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